


hit the gas

by akamine_chan



Series: The Sharpest Lives [29]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, let's get this show on the road, motorbaby," Poison says with a grin, and Gerard just wants to punch him in the nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hit the gas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/gifts).



> Written for Turlough's prompt of kink: driving fast over at bandom_meme. 
> 
> Title from _Na Na Na (Na Na Na)_ by My Chemical Romance, beta by Ande. Part of the Sharpest Lives 'verse. 
> 
> Art is based on a picture I took years ago in the desert of New Mexico.

Gerard's hanging out at the diner, helping Ghoul rig up some explosives. Okay, really, he's _watching_ Ghoul rig up some explosives, because Ghoul, pissy bitch that he is, won't let Gerard touch anything, no matter how much he whines. Asshole.

He gets bored after a while and paces around the diner. Poison was supposed to be back _hours_ ago, delivering some goods up-Zone for Dr. D, something hush-hush that Ghoul wouldn't talk about. Whatever. Gerard is on the verge of leaving, heading home and seeing if Frank or Ray or Mikey want to hang out when he hears the roar of an engine in the distance. He tilts his head; it sounds like the Am, but Ghoul's lack of reaction is proof positive that it isn't a Drac patrol.

It isn't long before the Am skids to a stop in front of the diner, a spray of gravel _tinging_ against the windows. Poison flings the door open, striding into the diner with a sly grin on his face, and Gerard can't help but stare. Poison is panting a little, flushed, sweaty, and his hair is a mess, like he's been running his fingers through it. He's practically glowing, and Gerard _knows_ that look. Knows it well. That's Poison's 'I-just-got-laid' look and that means the son of a bitch is fucking someone else.

Gerard's so pissed he's shaking, and he doesn't give Poison a chance to say anything; he grabs Poison's arm and pulls him into the back room, letting the door slam behind them. 

"Hey, motorba—"

Gerard shuts Poison up by kissing him roughly, while his fingers are busy with buttons and zips and when Gerard shoves Poison down onto the mattress his pants are gaping and his shirt is caught around his neck and one arm. Gerard doesn't care. He shoves his face into Poison's pubic hair, sniffing suspiciously, but all he can smell is days-old sweat. Poison might be fucking someone else, but he didn't come.

His dick is still half-hard, though, and that makes Gerard seethe. "Fucker," he mutters, licking his palm and wrapping it around Poison's cock, fingers too tight and uncareful. Poison makes a raw sound and closes his eyes, head thrown back as he pushes into Gerard's hand. It's quick and clumsy and Poison's squirming like the friction's almost too much, but Gerard's transfixed by the way Poison looks sprawled out on the ratty mattress, arm thrown across his eyes and teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Poison looks like he's being pushed past his limits and Gerard _likes_ that.

There's a couple of greenish-purple smudges marring Poison's pale skin; one along his ribs, one around his wrist. Gerard smiles, predatory, because those are _his_. He's the one that put them on Poison, when they'd fucked last week after a My Chem show, Gerard still buzzing with adrenaline. Gerard looks, but doesn't see any other marks, no bites or hickeys or bruises, and he feels relief flood through him.

It's over almost before it's started, Poison gasping for breath as he shudders under Gerard's touch, a groan rumbling deep in his throat. He arches and comes, his dick throbbing in Gerard's tight grip, and for a moment Gerard forgets how pissed he is.

"What's up, sugar?" Poison asks, voice raspy. He grins lazily, sated and pleased.

Gerard can't believe what an asshole Poison is. "Fuck you," he growls, getting to his feet and slamming out of the back room.

* * *

The next time Poison goes up-Zone for Dr. D, Gerard invites himself along. He's been cagey and hasn't said a word about his suspicions, but the look of disappointed surprise that flashes across Poison's face goes far to confirm his theory. Poison is _totally_ fucking around with someone else.

Fucker. 

Gerard doesn't think about the way his chest feels tight, making it hard to breathe. He's just so fucking pissed, because he'd finally started to believe he could trust Poison. He should have known better.

"Well, let's get this show on the road, motorbaby," Poison says with a grin, and Gerard just wants to punch him in the nose.

They climb into the Am and Gerard carefully buckles himself in, making sure the tension on the shoulder belt isn't too tight. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the grin on Poison's face and studiously ignores him, lifting his chin a little and looking out the side window at the dusty landscape.

Poison chuckles and the Am's engine roars to life with a twist of the key.

* * *

Gerard is surprised when they hit Route Tranquillity, because it's probably the least used road in the Zones. It goes nowhere, a straight line into the dead places. "Where are we going?" Gerard shouts. Both windows are down and Poison's got MGMK playing on the jury-rigged radio, so loud that parts of the Am are vibrating with it.

"You'll see," Poison says, and Gerard huffs in annoyance. Poison's gloved hands flex on the steering wheel and Gerard can't look away, lost in the memories of those fingers and what they can do. . .

Poison catches him staring and laughs, wiggling his fingers. Gerard blushes and scowls and sinks deeper into the bucket seat, muttering under his breath. Parts of the Zones are empty and desolate, but out here, almost to the Zone 6 border, it's somehow worse. Even the low-growing scrub is gone and there's nothing between here and the horizon except dirt and dust and ghosts.

They turn left onto another empty stretch of asphalt and Poison slows down, braking to a stop. He turns the engine off and climbs out. Gerard watches as he stalks to the front of the Am and stares off into the distance, red hair whipping in the dry wind.

What the hell? With a long sigh, Gerard gets out and stands next to Poison, trying to figure out what has captured his attention so thoroughly. 

The road stretches out in front of them, a stark, straight line, black-blue in the sunlight. There are clouds in the electric blue sky, and their shadows blanket large swathes of the ground. In the far distance, there's the low smudge of mountains, shimmering in the reflected heat from the road. 

It's hot, and Gerard's sweating, but the breeze just sucks the moisture away. "What are we doing here?"

Poison slants a cocky grin at him and leans against the hood of the Am. "Ghoul's been tinkering with the Am's engine."

Gerard shrugs. "Yeah, so what? He's always tinkering with _something_." Which is nothing but the truth.

"She goes real fast, now."

Gerard almost shrugs again, but there's something in Poison's voice, something breathless and excited. Gerard turns his head and studies Poison, seeing the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest rises and falls with each fast breath. His eyes fly to the crotch of Poison's dusty jeans and fuck, he's _hard_ , straining at the zip. It's like—oh. "You're getting off on this," Gerard blurts.

"Yeah," Poison says, matter-of-fact, as he presses his hand briefly against his dick. "C'mon, sugar, let's go for a ride." He grins and leans over, stealing a quick kiss before sliding behind the wheel again. Gerard just shakes his head and follows.

* * *

Ghoul definitely did _something_ to the Am, because the engine sounds smooth as Poison pours on the speed, shifting gears until the scenery is nothing but a brown-yellow blur. There's a subtle vibration as Poison pushes the Am, but it's not anywhere near breaking; Gerard can _hear_ how clean and true she's running. Ghoul's a fucking genius.

Poison's hands are relaxed and firm on the steering wheel, but he's shifting a little in his seat, like he can't sit still. Gerard rests his hand on Poison's thigh and almost jerks back at the heat that's radiating off of him; he's burning up. Poison's biting his lip and Gerard can't resist, he cups his hand around the hard bulge and just rests it there. In spite of the wind whipping through the window and the roar of the engine, Gerard can still feel the thrum of Poison's arousal and the beat of his own heart.

Gerard can feel how badly Poison wants to move, rub himself against the curve of Gerard's palm, but he keeps himself under control, thigh muscles trembling with the strain. Poison's inhaling deeply, slowly, and Gerard just wants to _push_ him. A drop of sweat rolls down the side of Poison's face and Gerard can't help himself, just leans forward and _licks_ , pressing his mouth to Poison's ear. "You're so close to coming, aren't you? Just from driving fast."

Poison nods, licking his lips. 

"Stop the car."

Poison lifts his foot off the accelerator and eases on the brake, bringing them to a smooth stop. The Am's still rolling a little when Gerard flings off his seat belt and reaches for the lever between Poison's legs, tugging it hard and pushing Poison back. He slides awkwardly into Poison's lap; it's cramped and painful, stick shift and steering wheel poking into him, but he doesn't care. He just needs to kiss Poison, feel his body tremble as he comes.

His fingers tug at the fastening of Poison's jeans, and it's a tight fit, but Gerard manages to worm down far enough to touch the heated flesh of his cock, giving Poison something softer to rub against. He's already wet and slick and he makes a sound under Gerard's mouth.

"Not gonna last long, are you?" Gerard whispers as Poison shifts his hips, rutting against Gerard's hand. "So desperate." He presses their lips together, swallowing the sounds that Poison makes, tasting the frantic need buzzing through Poison. His hand is at a painful angle, and his leg is going numb, but he doesn't care about anything except for the way Poison is writhing under him. "C'mon, Poison," he murmurs, smiling a little when Poison tenses and cries out, eyes fluttering shut, pained pleasure chasing across his face.

When Poison slumps back bonelessly, Gerard buries his face against the side of Poison's head and holds tight.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Full Throttle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/580281) by [cybercandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybercandy/pseuds/cybercandy)




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